The waves whispered, soft and endless, to her ear,

Their rhythm not unlike his voice—low, insincere.

She let them take her, a shadow slipping from the shore,

No rage, no plea; she was past the point of more.

Drowning felt gentle—his absence had hurt far more.

watching water flow
consciousness streams along
then a leaf floats by

The story of revolution
the glory of Che
The fury of wander
a doctor’s foray

Silver spoon of his birth
the high noon of choice
A tune peasants cling to
that force in his voice

Daring insurrection
then falling from grace
Each stalling acceptance
a rebel’s embrace

His legend in khaki
a friend to the weak
Unbending in spirit
— both joyous and bleak

(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)